


So Put Up No Resistance

by wildarcana15



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dom Sam Winchester, Don't copy to another site, Except it's not really smut, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, I don't really know how to tag this because this is just them getting together?, Kissing, M/M, POV Sam Winchester, Power Dynamics, Sub Dean Winchester, but it's also got lots of power dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 10:37:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17938211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildarcana15/pseuds/wildarcana15
Summary: Something has been building between them for a while. Sam knows it. Dean knows it.Sam can't understand why Dean keeps trying to resist this, when he knows it could be so good. The clash is inevitable.Eventually, Dean's resistance crumbles. This is the story of how it does.





	So Put Up No Resistance

“I can’t do this, Sammy. This has to - has to stop. I can’t resist this-” Dean chokes out the words, sounds more tortured than half the times Sam has seen him flayed and fragmented physically.

“Then don’t!” Sam can’t hold back his immediate retort. The part of him that has and always will be the pushy little brother won’t let him stop.

“It’s not that simple!” Dean’s pressing his lips together, distressed, and Sam wants to wipe the uncertainty from his face.

He thinks  _ it is _ that simple, but instead of the direct denial he knows will be useless, he flows into the next most accurate words he’s trying to say. 

“Then  _ make _ it that simple!” He doesn’t want to be vicious, but he feels it, just a little. He’s waited so long, and there’s so little in the way that he wants to shred the reservations like so much paper.

“I can’t, Sammy. I just - I can’t. Leave off, okay?” Dean’s desperate now, as if he knows he’s going to lose this argument, so Sam keeps going, gathering his momentum and arguments to him fiercely.

“No - why? I can’t understand why you won’t let yourself have this!” Sam nearly stamps his foot in sheer frustration, but that’s a step too bratty even for him, even for this.

“Because I don’t wanna screw you up!” The words tear from Dean’s lips like a confession, ripped from his soul and bared at last, in the impossible honesty of the moment.

Sam takes a moment, watches Dean swallow, the movement of his throat, the way his expression is harsh where his eyes are wide and horrified and vulnerable.

“I’m already screwed up.” Sam says, softly.

“Don’t say that - please-”   
  
“I’m already screwed up.” Sam reiterates. He takes a step forward, and Dean stumbles back until he’s against the wall and Sam’s body is pressing to the air inches from his. “I’ve been screwed up since forever, and that’s not on you. You can’t take the credit for this.” He sounds steadier than he feels.

Dean looks up at him, lips parted, searching Sam’s face for some truth of the universe, and he doesn’t know if he can hold up to Dean’s scrutiny, to whatever test he has to pass to make Dean accept this, accept them. But he has to try.

“I want you, Dean.” Sam hears Dean make a small, unreadable sound at that, and his breath catches in his throat. “I think I’ve always wanted you, I think it started when I was six months old and you decided to love me how Dad couldn’t after Mom died, I think it was always gonna happen and I think it’s just built into who I am. I can’t imagine a world where I don’t need you.” Sam crowds up against Dean, stealing the last inches of air between them so he can cup a hand to Dean’s jawline. He feels the muscle there twitch as he clenches his jaw, like he always does when he’s feeling things he’s tried to repress.

“Sam.” He doesn’t say anything more, doesn’t seem like he can. He sounds slightly stunned, and he’s turning subtly into Sam’s hand, and he almost can’t breathe with how close this is to being real. “What do you want from me, Sam? Because you know I’m yours. You know that.”

“Everything.” Sam replies, unthinkingly, then wonderingly, because it’s true. “I want everything. I want you to let yourself want me. I want - your heart, and your skin, and your blood and bone and lips, I want-” Sam is numb with how much, how consumed he is by this basic, fundamental need. 

“I want to take you,” He says, almost blankly, stark with emotion. “I want to take you and make you mine, and make you give yourself to this, to me, completely, and I want to hear you whine and moan and scream just for me.” He grips Dean’s arm, bruise-tight, and the sharp gasp drives deep into his psyche, takes the note of possession and wrenches it into a chord, a symphony.

“I want to feel you, want to make you feel until you’re mad with it, until you can’t stand it, I - God, I want to  _ hurt _ you and love you and - fuck,  _ Dean _ -” Sam bites down a jagged sob, swept away by all that he’s feeling, until he feels an arm wrapping around his shoulder, a hand tracing whisper-gentle over his cheek, and he opens eyes he didn’t realise he’d closed.

“Yes.” Dean’s eyes are studded with unshed tears, and he’s broken open, achingly so, and it makes Sam’s hand clench tighter on Dean’s arm. “Sam - Sammy -  _ yes _ . I can’t - I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t ever want to make you do anything, but I swear to you, Sammy, if we do this there’s no going back. I don’t think I could if I tried.”

Sam thinks he wants to growl, say something affirming like  _ yes _ or  _ good _ of  _ fucking finally _ , but he wants to kiss Dean more, so he does. The hand he’s got on Dean’s jaw slides back, supports the back of his neck as his fingers tangle in his short hair. He grips tight, tilts Dean’s head up as their lips touch. He feels a tiny huff of breath, a strangled whimper of need that snaps like a lighting strike to Sam’s libido, and he presses closer, licks into Dean’s mouth and scrapes his teeth on Dean’s infuriating, finally attainable lips, and drinks in the sounds of need like it’s water and he’s been in the desert for years.

He wants to fuse them together, to kiss him, possess Dean so thoroughly they can’t ever be torn apart. He’s wild with it, clings and he knows he’s bruising Dean up and nothing in him can even remotely care.

He pulls himself away with great effort of will, his eyes tracking the softness, redness and faint purple on Dean’s lips. The sight of Dean so debauched, dazed and wrapped up in Sam, for Sam,  _ because _ of him, is so essential. It sets Sam ablaze, how he feels Dean’s hands gripping tight because his weight is half held up by the wall and half by Sam. He relishes how he can do that, hold Dean up. Return the strength and safety he’s always been given.

“You’re mine, Dean.” Sam hears his voice and barely understands that it belongs to him. It’s deep, rough with lust and latent violence, and he wants to hate himself for it, but Dean just clutches at him harder, sinks into it, his eyes fluttering like they want to close so he can hear better. He can’t resist that - no more than Dean could resist him. “All mine.”

Dean’s face turns so his lips press against Sam’s neck, and he hums, nods in agreement, his breath tickling. Sam stifles a breathy laugh, which comes out anyway when Dean licks a stripe up his neck, from collarbone to jaw.

“What was that for?” Sam’s still gripping tight to Dean, and he almost doesn’t understand how they can flip so quickly between fierceness and this strangely innocent humour.

“You’re mine too, Sammy.” Dean’s fingers press divots into Sam’s back, and he feels Dean lean up a little, then a sharp bite and gentling lick at his earlobe. His breath hitches. Not so innocent, then. This give and take, this mesh of harshness and love and pain and pleasure, isn’t innocent, isn’t sinful. It’s just them, pure and simple.

“Yeah.” Sam’s expression twists into a smile. “I am.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I am back with an update. And by an update, I mean a fic that is entirely different to either of my current WIPs. I apologise profusely, I am absolutely terrible, but I have not got a clue how to get my writing back into shape, and I think posting anything, even something unrelated such as this, will maybe help me get back into the swing of things, because my writing has felt very lost recently.
> 
> Comments and kudos make me as happy as Sam and Dean could make each other if they were allowed! <3


End file.
